Universal Smash
by Amethyst Light
Summary: Everyone knows that you should never take advice from fortune cookies. Paul learns this the hard way.


A/N: Late gift fic for a friend. If it doesn't make sense, then you are in good company.

Disclaimer: Nothing owned. Nothing profited.

Universal Smash

"Hit me again."

The command has been stated at least three times in the past half hour. And with each demanding statement comes a new plate of assorted dumplings with various dipping sauces that found its way in front of the depressed judo master. It seems like someone's quest of becoming the 'toughest in the universe' has hit an all time slump. Not that it was at a high at any point but let's just say it 'slumped' to make him feel better.

"Come on, man. Hit me!" Paul grumbled as he banged on the dirty plates with his broken chopsticks. He clanked the dishes louder until Marshall decided to come out of the kitchen to tell him kindly to 'Sit up, eat your damn noodles and STFU.' But knowing Marshall, that would be ridiculously out of character so he began to play it nice for his thickheaded friend.

"That's the sixth plate I gave you! Order any more and I won't be able to serve any dim sum for the rest of the day. And since did you like to order the liver dumplings? I'm fresh out because of you!"

"It's horrible, man…" Paul's voice quivered with manly tears of sadness. "The fans won't shut up! I see it everywhere. Ever since the fourth tournament, all I've been hearing was 'BEAR SMASH PAUL' and all this crap about me being the most _idiotic_ of the universe! I mean, I have feelings man! Makes me tear up inside to see my beloved fans turn on me like that! I'm a hero, you know. Someone to look up to when it comes to being the toughest of the universe!!"

"…And this has to do with my missing liver dumplings because…?"

"Some friend you are! Caring more about some dumplings stuffed with gross crap than your BFF's feelings." with that Paul huffed and puffed and…

cried with the manliest man tears this side of Marshall China has ever seen.

Marshall sighed and shook his head, taking up the dirty dishes the idiot has made. He went into the kitchen for a moment and when he came back out, he had a small item in his hand. "Will you stop crying if I give you something that is on the house?"

"I don't need your sympathy! But then again free stuff ain't bad. What is it?"

"A fortune cookie."

"Cheapass! Those are always complimentary with Chinese take out. That's not special!"

"Just. Take. The Damn. Cookie." Marshall said through gritted teeth as his patience began to deteriorate.

"…Okay!" Paul snatched the small treat and cracked open the fortune. He held the tiny sliver of paper in front of his face and began to read it slowly out loud. "_In Soviet Russia, Paul smashes Bear. Go fulfill your destiny and smash everything that comes in your way_." The judo master looked up at his friend and waved the fortune around happily in Marshall's face. "Wow, you're cookies must be godly or something! Even _they_ agree with me on my question to destroying everything in the universe for the common good!"

"Really?" the Chinese's voice was dumbfounded. "Wow, well what do you know? Maybe you should go follow its advice! But first, read the back. I think there is more."

Paul flipped over the sliver and read its contents out loud as well. "_And before you go on your quest, pay your best friend a handsome tip because dim sum doesn't grow on trees_. Man, this is one helluva specific cookie!"

"I'll say!" Marshall pushed the tip jar right in front of Paul. "Now you heard the cookie; pay up!"

"You got it!" Paul dumped a few extra bills into the jar and began walking towards the door. "Well, buddy…it's time for me to put those words into action and become the toughest in the universe. Wish me luck!" and with that, Paul has left the building.

Marshall sighed once again as he made his way back into the kitchen. He pulled out his pen and grabbed a handful of paper slivers as he proceeded to write fortunes and fold them into the unbaked fortune cookies. "The things I do for people…"

"How am I going to be able to prove my toughness right now? The sixth King of the Iron Fist tournament isn't for another two months! I want to prove myself _now_." Paul whined as he walked down the street. He stopped for a moment to concoct some plan that at first sounds like it is made of 'win' but ends up failing in the end. "If I were to defeat the sponsor of the tournament, then that will automatically make me the toughest in the universe without going through the trouble of owning the weak! Damn, that sounds good."

The blond man gave himself a mental high five (even though that does not make any freaking logical sense) and began his search for the man who helped bring the infamous emo Jin to life; Kazuya Mishima.

Now, people will ask Paul 'Why won't you smash Be- I mean _Kuma_ to redeem yourself instead of going through the trouble of smashing a dude that has so much family issues that it is good enough for a spin off soap opera that will be cancelled before the first season ends?' Simple.

That makes too much sense.

So much sense that it gives Paul _negative_ sense because he does not possess any common sense to begin with. And with that being said, the American made his journey across Japan in order to meet the father of emo. Let me remind you that this is for the greater good so even though what Paul isn't really mentally sound, it's doing a favor for the rest of us. But then again, some other people want to open a large can of whoop-ass on Kazuya. This could be a problem…

A week after Paul's epiphany of how to become the toughest in the universe, he arrives in front of Mishima Zaibatsu to do the deed. He forgets that some of the competitors are already in the area for the competition, which could pose a threat since almost three-fourths of them want a piece of Kazuya and/or Jin to pwn. Hard.

With a quick one, two, three, Paul rammed into the entrance and found Kazuya standing there as if he were expecting company. So much for the whole 'let's search for Kazuya!' montage. The Japanese's face was the epitome of indifference; his expression as if he cared about nothing but his own problems and sorrows. Now we know where Jin gets his personality.

"I challenge you!" Paul proclaimed. "To a battle which will determine who will be the toughest in the universe. Right here, right now."

"…"

"Silent, eh? I take that as an agreement! Prepare yourself!" Paul cracked his knuckles and ran towards the stoic man with a fierce battle cry that sounded like he was about to eat Kazuya or something like that. Kazuya could only say one phrase that could even describe this whole story.

"What the hell."

The fight was brief. Paul did the cheapest ass move in the whole game, the Phoenix Smash, over and over again while Kazuya managed to do the Mishima specialty, the wavedash, to keep the American on his toes. Each one of them took several blows, none which were pretty. And before long, the two rushed into each other for a final blow, which sent them both soaring and crashing into the opposite sides of the room.

The door opens as the one of the men was on the floor, broken physically and mentally. Well, more on the latter for. As the door creaked open, one of the new competitors walked in to see Kazuya lying on the floor with an exhausted blond man not too far off the side.

"Nein nein _nein_! It's _mein_ job to kick that ugly old man's ass! Not that…that _sache_!" Leo pointed at Paul.

"_Sache_?! I don't even know what that means but it sounds offensive!" Paul slurred his words together as he limped over to Leo. "Now listen here, little boy! I am Paul Phoenix, the toughest in the universe. I _will_ get respect!" he poked at Leo's chest as he continued to rant and rave about his awesome might. "Respect me! Respect Paul Phoenix! I am…the toughest in the universe!"

"…"

"Come on! Say it!"

"…"

"Little boy, it's not that hard."

"…I'm a girl."

"Seems that you missed puberty then, dude." As soon as Paul punctuated his sentence, an uppercut followed and that sent the American a-flying. He flew so high that he made a Paul-shaped hole in the ceiling; out of sight and out of mind. Where to, no one knows and gives a damn for the time being.

Leo stomped her way out of the destroyed room, infuriated since her tournament objective was pointless now. "Ach mein Gott. All my planning. Ruined! What am I suppose to do now?" She proceeded to place her hands on her face, running them through her short dirty blonde hair as her temper began to boil over. Before she could scream, a Chinese man popped near by. "In a slump?" Marshall asked.

"…What makes you say that?" Leo took her hands off her face and gave Marshall the look as if she were to burst into hysterical tears and go on a rampage on all of mankind when she answered.

"Well, I'll offer you some advice that can pay off in the end!" Marshall said, handing the German girl a small item.

A fortune cookie.

"Now make sure to read it front and back! The advice never lies."


End file.
